With A Dash Of Lemon Juice
by Madame Plot Bunnie
Summary: A one-time drinking companion turns out to be Severus Snape's new apprentice-Hermione Granger! Hangovers and romance ensue
1. Here's Lookin' At You, Kid

With A Dash Of Lemon Juice 

By Madame Plot Bunnie 

_    Getting drunk was a fine way to forget one's troubles. _

At least, that's what Severus Snape thought, as he sat at the bar in the Leaky Cauldron, with half a dozen shot glasses that had once been filled with brandy. 

   Severus sighed and rested his head on his fist. Becoming hopelessly drunk on the night before the required date that all teachers were due back at Hogwarts was his own, dear sardonic tradition. He set the tiny glass, now empty, down on the bar. He was _not _looking forward to the start of term. 

_Well, _Severus mused, _that was a bit of an understatement. _Such as saying, 'the night is dark' or 'the sea is deep.' 

   It wasn't that he didn't like his title as Potions Master, oh no, but the children! 'Teacher' was a bit of a loose term; he taught, but could never be sure that the students learned anything. If he hadn't felt so obliged to Dumbledore…

   _Then I'd probably be a professor at the University, _Severus thought to himself, motioning for the bartender for more alcohol. Now there was a real job. The students there were dedicated to the art and study of Potions, not like the halfwits he usually taught. 

   He scowled in disgust and tipped back another shot of brandy. Oh glorious alcohol…

Still, he supposed, he had a lot to be grateful for. Voldemort was finally gone, gone for good; killed by The Boy Wonder in his seventh year. No more Death Eater get-togethers for him!

Of course, there was still the matter of his life. _Or lack thereof, _the nastier part of Severus's brain said. Well. Severus couldn't deny that. He often found himself alone; after all, the only person who gave a hippogriff's arse about him was Dumbledore. 

_Ah, _said the nasty little voice again, which Severus thought sounded suspiciously like his mother, _that's your own damn fault, now, isn't it? Maybe if you weren't such a nasty, horrible person then people would like you better!_

In response to that, Severus toasted himself and knocked back a glass of FireWhisky. 

   As he sat on his stool, mulling over his pathetic state of drunkenness, Severus heard the door to the pub open, felt the wave of humid late-August air sweep into the cool room. He didn't turn around. Probably some damned happy couple out enjoying themselves…

   A young witch came up to the bar. She sat dejectedly down on the stool, and Tom the bartender came right up.  Severus paid her no mind until he heard her say, "Please, Tom, strongest Vodka you have—with a dash of lemon juice."

   Severus looked up from his brandy glasses. _Must be an experienced drinker, this one, _he thought amusedly, eyeing the witch. 

   The woman—or girl, she couldn't have been much over 20—was quite pretty, even though she looked a real mess.  Her eyes, which were deep brown, Severus noted, were red and a little puffy as though she had been crying. Her cheeks were tinged pink, and her hair, which was dark toffee brown and curly, was tied back in a hasty ponytail. Altogether, the witch was quite something to look at. 

   Severus watched in fascination as the woman's drink was brought to her. She gave a small smile to Tom the bartender, before consuming the entire contents of her glass in one gulp. 

   Severus shot an abashed look at his meek brandy, before looking back at the witch. She looked strangely familiar to him, but with all the alcohol in his system he couldn't quite place her. Surely he'd remember a witch so attractive, wouldn't he?

   Tom came back and replaced her empty glass with another full one. He patted the woman's hand in a fatherly fashion, saying,  "Want to talk about it, deary?" 

The young woman smiled wanly and shook her head. "No, thanks Tom. Not yet. Thanks for the offer." Her voice seemed teary. Tom patted her hand again, saying, "Just be careful, lass. Just be careful," before disappearing to the back room. 

   The woman chuckled darkly to herself. She picked up her new glass, and Severus distinctly heard the words "all men" and "bastards". He silently laughed. One of the Broken Hearted, this one. 

   The Potions Master sighed and stared glumly at his collection of glasses. Severus had never been "involved" with anyone. Of course there had been women before. Back in his school days, once or twice in his Voldemort days, but after that, nothing. He had never found the thought of being "in love" with anyone particularly desirable. 

   Which was precisely why he was sitting alone in a bar with a dozen empty shot glasses in front of him. 

   A small sniffle was heard from the other end of the bar. The beautiful witch now had six tumblers in front of her, all lined up in a row, and another one in her hand. She caught Severus's eye and turned to face him properly. She smiled (Severus's heart did a little dance) and raised the glass to him, toasting him. 

"Here's lookin' at you, kid," she said before swallowing her vodka. Severus smiled back and raised his glass in a similar fashion. "The same to you, beautiful," he said. Suddenly realizing what he had said, he cringed, but the witch didn't seem to mind. She blushed prettily and beckoned for him to sit next to her. Severus gladly obliged and took the stool next to the gorgeous girl. 

   "All alone?" she asked, her big brown eyes sparkling from the alcohol in her system. Severus chuckled. "You have no idea." 

She laughed too, sucking on a lemon from her drink. "Me too," she sighed. "All alone…" she trailed off, looking rather sad for a moment. On impulse, Severus took her hand reassuringly. She grinned and gave him another drink. 

   As they talked, she more and more entranced Severus. Sure, he was piss drunk, but he could still tell she was wonderful and full of life. And full of liquor. 

   "Dis ish fun, ishn't it?" Severus slurred about half an hour and one split bottle of vodka later, when both of them were laughing so hard they had to hang onto the bar for support. The brunette witch giggled, hanging on to her chair as thought it was her lifeline. 

   She sat up straight (was it straight? Severus couldn't tell; his eyesight was getting blurry) and said "Well I gotta go. Work" she began to snicker, "work to-tomorrow!" She made to stand up, but promptly lost her balance and fell flat on the ground. 

   Severus unsteadily got off his stool and bent down to help her up. "Why thank you," she said, grabbing onto his arm. Severus pulled her up, but she stumbled on one of her high heels and fell into his chest. 

   "Oops!" Severus said, overcome with inebriated laughter. The witch clung onto him and laughed into his shirt, her whole body shaking with giggles. Severus noted her hair smelled like vanilla. She was a petit little thing; she barely came up past his shoulders. He himself was a stately six foot two. 

   "I'll help you outshide," Severus offered, extending a would-be gallant arm, if not for the drunk state. She smiled and took his arm. "Why thank you, good sir knight!" she said gamely. 

   The pair walked away from the bar, leaving it scattered with glasses, looking the like bar scene in _Raiders of The Lost Arc. _

   They stepped out into the balmy late-August night air. The back alley was deserted. They walked in zigzagging lines to the garbage bins, still tittering from time to time. Suddenly, the pretty young witch stopped.

   "You know," she said, leaning back against the brick wall to steady herself, "I feel like I've met you somewhere before. Like I know you. I just can't place you in my mind…" she stopped, chuckling. "That sounds like a horrendous romance novel, doesn't it?" 

   Severus laughed too. "Or like a terrible cliché," he said quietly. It never ceased to amaze him how amusing everything always seemed when one was drunk. 

   "Maybe…maybe we'll meet again someday. It was…so fun. Kay? But now I gotta go home!"

Severus felt a wave of anxiety pass through him. He had just met a wonderful woman, vibrant and funny and who could hold her liquor, and now she was just going to leave. He'd be alone again. Teaching those little buggers. Alone. 

   "Wait!" he said wildly, running a hand through his black hair. The woman stopped and stared at him expectantly. "Wait," he said, moving closer, feeling the rush flow through his blood. Her eyes watched him, studied him. "Just—" he paused, thinking of what to say. "I wanna tell you shomthing, sweetheart!"

   The combination of alcohol and adrenaline is a dangerous one. It can make one do odd, impulsive things that one enjoys while it lasts but ends up regretting later. Severus set the all-star example, like a poster boy for Why Not To Drink. 

   He leaned forward and kissed the girl. She made a small gasp of surprise against his mouth, but made no effort to move away. Severus, or rather the alcohol in Severus, took this as an invitation and pulled her closer, pressing his lips hungrily on hers. Her hands placed themselves on his shoulders. Severus's hope flickered—

   And then she pushed away. 

   "I—I—I don't even know your name!" the brunette said, backing away. Severus felt his face burn with shame. He took a step toward her, but she held out a hand. "We're both really drunk. Maybe it's better we don't get to know each other. I—I have to go."

"No, just wait a sec—" Severus said, trying to explain, but she Disapperated with a small **pop!**

   Severus stared at the wall. _Well, you stupid git, _the little voice, clearly drunk with malice, sang in his head. _You've lost her. Senseless prick. Couldn't keep a woman to save your life, Snape old man! _

   Severus sighed. Just as well. He'd have to go home and pack anyway. And get rid of his drunken state before heading back to the school tomorrow. 

   And get that motherly nagging voice to stop hurling insults at his head. 

*~*~*~*

Hello there! A short little Authoress's note:

   This story will be quite long, I think. I'll try to update at least once a week, if not more. I do know where this story is going and I'm going to make up a lot of back stories that may or may not contradict the upcoming Book Five. (Anybody else counting down?) IF they're severely contradicting I'll fix 'em. 

ALSO:  although I've been writing since I was like six or something, this is my first chapter story. I'd be forever indebted to you if you reviewed!! (HINT HINT) Also also: could somebody fill me in on exactly what a beta-reader does? 

Thank you! 


	2. With A Little Help From My Friend

WITH A DASH OF LEMON JUICE 

By Madame Plot Bunnie

   Hermione Granger slowly opened her eyes, gingerly placing her hands on her pounding head. 

"Oh, my…what did I drink last night?" she muttered to herself. Warily, the twenty-one year old witch sat up from her sprawled position on the bed. She remembered going to a bar for a drink, but what or how many remained a mystery. She had the mother of all hangovers. 

   Hermione sighed and slowly made the way into her the bathroom of her tiny London flat. At the sight of her face in the mirror, she nearly let out a shriek of surprise. 

   Her hair, curly and brown, was now frizzy and tangled. Mascara was smudged in faint gray-black streaks down her cheeks. Her brown eyes were bloodshot, but whether it was from the alcohol or the crying, Hermione couldn't tell. 

   Hermione glared, whipping out her wand and muttering quick spells for her hair and face. The reason she had been crying was because of a man. And not just any man. 

   Ronald Weasley. Her former boyfriend of two years. Her near-fiancé. Or so she had thought, up until last night—when he had dropped the bomb. 

   After Harry had defeated Voldemort in their seventh year, everything had changed for the world, wizarding and Muggle alike. No one had to live under constant fear anymore. People became less fearful, more joyous, and more open with each other.  It had been in the victory celebration that Ron's true feelings for Hermione had come out into the open. He had kissed her. 

   Hermione had been pleasantly shocked. She had always thought Ron had considered her a friend. She and Ron had agreed to keep their relationship quite until they had settled into their post-Hogwarts life. 

    So Ron went off to tour the world with Harry, while Hermione went to the London University of Sorcery and Alchemy, where she still attended. But when Ron had come back from his year away, he and Hermione made it public they were dating. Hermione had been positive she loved Ronald Weasely and was content with the idea of settling down and marrying him. 

   Hermione glared at her reflection again. I was happy with Ron, but I guess Ron wasn't happy with me, she thought gloomily. That was why she had gone out to get sloshed last night—because Ron had broken up with her. Unwillingly, her mind flicked back to the previous evening…

**Flashback**

"Hi, Ron!" Hermione greeted cheerfully, throwing the door opened and greeting her redheaded boyfriend with a kiss. 

"Er, Mione… we need to talk," Ron said, not quite meeting her gaze. Curious, Hermione let Ron in and followed him into the kitchen. Ron leaned against the table, shifty. Hermione stood opposite him, her hand drumming on the countertop. 

"So?" she prompted, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Ron took a deep breath and looked up at Hermione with his blue eyes. "Hermione," he said slowly, concentrating on every word, "you know I love you very much, right?" Hermione made no reply. She wanted Ron to say whatever he had to say. Ron continued, making conscious effort to look her in the face. "Well…we've been together three years…and, well, that's a long time, Hermione. And…well—"

   Hermione sighed impatiently. "Ron, will you just say it already?" she cried, exasperated. 

"Okay," Ron said. "Mione…there's someone else."

The force that one sentence could have on her was amazing. Immediately, Hermione could feel her throat constricting painfully. Oh my God. "What do you mean, 'there's someone else?'" she asked him in deadly calm tones, to deceive her tears.

Ron once again looked uneasy. "I…I've been seeing someone else, Hermione. Another girl. I-"

"Who?" Hermione asked, her voice shaking with threatening tears now. "Who is it?"

Ron stopped, ears turning pink. "It's Parvati Patil. We work in the same department…at work, you know…and, oh, Hermione, I'm sorry. I really am, just…"

"Oh, shut up," she snapped, brushing away a stray tear. "Just…just get out, dammit! Go!" Ron looked aghast for a moment, but turned to leave. "I really am sorry Hermione," he said at the door, before quietly leaving. Crookshanks hissed at him as he left.

**End Flashback**

Hermione came whirling out of her reverie with a shrill ring of her doorbell. Making sure she looked at least halfway decent, she ran to the door, nearly tripping over the enormous ginger ball that was Crookshanks.  

"Coming!" she called, unlatching the door. It swung open to reveal— "Ginny!" Hermione cried, throwing her arms around her best friend. 

Ginny smiled, returning the hug. "Hey, Mione," she said graciously. "How are you?" 

Hermione's smile faltered a bit as she broke away from the redhead. "How did—"

"Ron told us," Ginny grimaced, stepping into the apartment. "He came by Godric's Hollow last night, for dinner. Stupid bastard." She grinned apologetically at Hermione. "Well, Mione, you know I'm going to take your side."

Hermione smiled as she led Ginny into the kitchen. "Sorry, Gin, no tea. I've only just awoken…had to find some hangover Potion…"

Ginny stopped. "Hermione Kalonice Granger," Hermione cringed at the full name, "you did not go out and get drunk on account of my brother. Please. Tell me you did not." 

   Hermione reddened, busying herself with the kettle. "Guilty as charged," she mumbled. Ginny sighed and sat on a chair. "Hermione," she said slowly, staring at her, "give yourself time. I know you loved Ron, even though he didn't deserve it. But you can't expect to be settled down right away! Look at you! You're not even finished with school yet; only twenty-one!"

"I'll be twenty-two in a month," Hermione reminded her, setting the kettle on the flames. "And it's easy for you to say, Ginny! You're happily married to Harry!"

   Ginny fell silent, contemplating. Secretly, Hermione envied Ginny. Oh, not because she had married Harry Potter. Harry was still one of Hermione's best friends. But Ginny had a wonderful life—a wonderful family, a wonderful husband, a wonderful house. Harry had finally noticed Ginny in their final year (Ginny's sixth). It had taken time, but they fell in love with each other after Voldemort and married less than a year ago. 

   "Well, anyway, darling, the reason I dropped by," Ginny said, suddenly businesslike, "is to see if you need any help packing."

Hermione dropped the teacup she was holding. "Oh, Christ, I completely forgot!" she cried. Frantically, she looked at her calendar. It was the 26th of August—the day she left London to begin her term as a student teacher at Hogwarts.

   For that was why Hermione was attending the University—to become a teacher. She was studying Arithmancy, a little Transfiguration, and Potions. She only had one year left at the University, and by law, all students studying to become teachers had to spend at least two semesters student teaching. Her professors at the University had been kind enough to recommend her to Albus Dumbledore, who had gladly offered her a job. She was required to be at the school four days early.

   "Oh my God, Ginny! I forgot! I have to take the Portkey in—" Hermione glanced at the clock—"Two hours!"

Ginny stood up. "That's why I'm here, Hermione. Let's go get you ready."

*~*~*~*~*

An hour and a half later, Hermione, showered and dressed, stood packing her clothes in her trunk, while Ginny stood studying her closet. 

   "Hermione," Ginny said, turning to her thoughtfully, "I know we've been through this before, but your wardrobe—"

"Is lacking something," Hermione finished for her, rolling her eyes. "Gin, you've said this every single time you've seen it. I know. But I can't compare to you," she finished, eying the younger witch's attire. Ginny had on Muggle-style jeans and an orange top that complimented her hair. Hermione wore a knee-length black skirt and a white top. 

"And anyway, Gin," Hermione continued, reaching out to pet Crookshanks, who had curled up inside the trunk, "I'm going to be at Hogwarts for the next half a year at least. Wearing robes, probably. Plus, who there cares what I look like?" 

   Ginny got a mad glint in her eye. "Yeah," said Mrs. Potter slowly, "but just think: what if you go into the village and meet some adorable wizard? Dressed like that?" 

   Hermione suppressed the urge to roll her eyes again. "Ginny, come on. I'll be too busy; I'll have tutorials to go through and papers to write and maybe even classes to teach. I won't have time for anybody. I can't even take Crookshanks with me!" she flopped down on the bed. Ginny surveyed her.  She then took out her wand from a pocket and faced the wardrobe. 

   "I'm going to fix this," she said defiantly, and began Transfiguring all Hermione's clothes. Hermione watched in horror as a favourite pair of sweatpants she's had since she was 15 be transfigured into a knee-length, strapless red dress. 

   "Ginny!" Hermione's hand froze over her ginger cat, which looked amused. Ginny stood back to survey her work. "Good," Ginny said, moving on to the trunk. "But still more work to be done…"

   Ginny rifled through the carefully packed trunk, changing bits and pieces of Hermione's apparel. Ginny's blue eyes began to gleam when she found Hermione's underwear at the bottom of the trunk. A small mischievous grin spread over her face.

   "Oh, Ginny, don't do that—" but Hermione's plea came too late. With one flick of Ginny's wand, all of Hermione's underwear had been changed from plain cotton white, to a variety of colors and sizes and materials. 

   Hermione and Ginny stared at each other for a moment from across the bed. "Virginia Scarlett Potter," Hermione breathed. Ginny smirked. "Much better," the redhead said in approval, repacking the underwear (Pink, red, blue, and black, Hermione noted, appalled. Some of it was even made of satin. With lace.) Ginny finished her task and stood, beaming happily, to look at the clock. When she turned back, Hermione was still glowering at her. Ginny grinned apologetically but made no move to change them back.

   My underwear, Hermione thought in horror. She's turned my underwear colored! 

*~*~*~*~*

Half an hour later, Hermione arrived with Ginny at the Portkey depot, in a section of Diagon Alley. At Ginny's insistence, Hermione had changed the dull skirt and top to a more summery white skirt and top. Ginny had not let Hermione wear her regular shoes, either; Hermione now had high heels on her feet, albeit low ones. 

   Merlin bless those Anti-Aching Spells, Hermione thought, appreciative of her own handiwork. Her trunk floated, bewitched, behind them. Ginny had also taken the liberty of doing Hermione's hair, so that her brown curls were twisted into a low, loose bun on the nape of her neck. 

   Finally, they two women reached the depot. Ginny smiled excitedly. "Okay, Mione. Be brave. You have everything?" 

Hermione nodded. "Yes, Gin. Even the underwear." She grinned. "I'll owl you when I tonight, okay? Take care of Crookshanks." Ginny and Harry were keeping Hermione's cat while she was away. 

   Ginny reached out to hug her best friend. "You just forget all about Ron, okay, Hermione? There are more fish in the sea." She pulled back. Hermione smiled. "I will. " She had found that out last night, sitting in the bar. She could vaguely remember a dark, handsome stranger sitting with her…

   A sharp voice called. "Granger Portkey, set for Scotland, 11:38! Granger!" 

Ginny gave Hermione a little push. "Go get 'em." Hermione nodded and walked off, her trunk following her. She walked up to the attendant and gave him a smile. "Hello."

   The young attendant eyed her. "Are you Miss Granger?" he asked, taking her in. Hermione mentally applauded Ginny. She really knows how to work her magic. She winced slightly at the pun. 

   "Yes, I am. " Hermione said. The attendant smiled. "Your Portkey's over there, Miss. The red book. Will take you right into Hogsmeade Station." 

   "Thanks," Hermione said. She turned. Ginny was standing there, twisting her wedding band on her finger. "Bye!" Hermione cried. "Give all my love to Harry!"

Here goes nothing, she thought, butterflies running free in the meadow of her stomach. She tentatively grabbed the tattered red book, grabbing the trunk with one hand—

And felt a jerk from right behind her navel, and was whisked away…

*~*~*~*~*

Hola! Welcome again to the Authoress's Note, si, gather round. 

Well, the second chapter, done! It took me about three hours to write this—I made up about twenty different back stories, only two of which appear in this chapter. Prepare yourselves! I'm making them funny. I hope.

Many thanks to:

**Rogue Mage **

**Sidekickwannabe**

And the one other person who sent me an email…

Thank you guys SO VERY MUCH, I'm glad you reviewed. It officially made my day. Keep reading! 

~La Madame Plot Bunnie 


	3. Movin' Out

WITH A DASH OF LEMON JUICE 

By Madame Plot Bunnie

  
  


Here goes nothing, she thought, butterflies running free in the meadow of her stomach. She tentatively grabbed the tattered red book, grabbing the trunk with one hand—

And felt a jerk from right behind her navel, and was whisked away…

*~*~*~*~*

A howl of wind like a rushing train and a dizzying swirl of color accompanied Hermione's second-long magical journey to into Hogsmeade. 

   Hermione stood; still clutching her used Portkey in one hand and holding her lightweight trunk with the other. She was on the grassy hill on which the Shrieking Shack was positioned, looking over the quaint little Wizarding village to which she hadn't visited in nearly five years. 

   From her spot, which she supposed must be the Hogsmeade Portkey Station, Hermione could see people milling about the streets; a group of burly wizards going into The Three Broomsticks, witches window-shopping at Dervish and Banges, and an excited group of youngsters gathered around a store she did not remember. _I do wonder what that is, _she thought. Curious, Hermione Levitated her trunk behind her and drifted down toward the unfamiliar shop.

   Hermione eyed the group of young witches and wizards as she neared. All had smiles and wide, eager eyes, little voices gabbling excitedly. She could distinctly hear loud **BANG**s and **POP**s coming from the entrance. 

   "And that," a voice said grandly, "Concludes today's show! Go on, now, be good!" 

   "Or at least try!" another voice called to the retreating children. The little ones cleared off, leaving Hermione with a better view of the doorway. And the flash of red hair that occupied it.

   One head looked up, directly at her. Their eyes met, and the man stood up and said "Why, my dear George, I do believe Miss Hermione Granger has graced us with her presence!" 

   In a flash, Fred and George Weasley enveloped Hermione in an energetic bear hug. 

   "Fred!" Hermione cried, happy to see familiar faces. "George! Hello!" The twins bowed over her hand, adopting rather fake French accents.

   "Wha-y, 'ow may we 'elp you, mademoiselle?" The twins asked in perfect unison, sweeping their former schoolmate and friend into another hug.  "Is this the newest shop?" Hermione asked, gesturing to the store. After the War, the Weasley twins had accomplished their dream, by finally gathering enough money to open their own joke shop in Diagon Alley. The shop had endured a booming success amongst the young magic population. 

   The twins beamed with pride at Hermione's question. "Yep," George said. "The Diagon Alley location did so well, we've decided to expand, to open up another outpost."

   "And what better place than beautiful Hogsmeade?" Fred asked, grinning. "The gorgeous countryside—" 

"—the ideal little village—"

"—the young, innocent minds to corrupt—"

   Hermione giggled. "Filch'll be after your skins," she said, leaning back on her trunk. 

   "Just like old times, m'dear," Fred said in a mock-reminiscing voice. "But what're you doing in town, Hermione?" 

   Hermione grinned. "I'm going back to Hogwarts. Student teaching for the University. I'm studying with McGonagall and Vector and Snape." 

   George stared at her open-mouthed. Fred turned to his twin with a solemn expression, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Dear brother," he said gravely," we've lost another one to the Forces of Evil." 

   George punched his brother in the arm. "Don't mind him, Hermione, congratulations! But _three _subjects…how're you managing _that?" _

"Well, hum," Fred said, rolling his eyes. "She's Hermione Granger, how _else _would she be managing?" Hermione giggled again. 

   "Actually," she said, checking her watch, "I'd better be going. It's 12:08, and Dumbledore is expecting me for lunch." She turned to her trunk and the twins stood. 

   "Come visit us whenever you're free, Hermione!" George called to her as she waved while walking up the path. 

"Yeah, we'll show you the town," Fred joked, heading into the shop. "Good luck!" Both twins called after her. 

   Hermione waved one last time to the twins before heading up the winding road to the castle of Hogwarts.

*~*~*~*~*

"Albus, you cannot be serious about this arrangement!" Severus Snape cried, waving his arms about irately while pacing his dungeon classroom. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, placidly watched his Potions Master and youngest member of his staff throw a temper tantrum. 

   "Are you _wailing, _Severus?" the Headmaster asked, his blue eyes simply twinkling with delight. 

   Severus Snape glared at his mentor. "Albus, I find no humor whatsoever in the situation! You cannot simply expect me to tutor that…that Gryffindor bookworm! I will not do it! She's…ineligible!"  
  


   Dumbledore surveyed the tall dark haired man through his half-moon spectacles. "Severus," he said quietly, "Miss Hermione Granger will only be here at the school for a year at the most. And," he added quickly, before Severus could cut in, "She's a student at the University. She's dedicated. You always said you would love being able to work with someone dedicated."

   Severus cursed himself as his words came back to haunt him. "Yes, but I didn't mean a little know-it-all novice who used to annoy me to no end in her days here. And probably still will!" 

   Dumbledore said nothing. Severus stared moodily at the stone wall for a moment, knowing full well he had no say in whether Hermione Granger would return or not. He took a deep breath inward. "You expect me to let that _girl _teach _my _Potions classes?" he finally asked his beloved mentor. 

   Dumbledore repressed a triumphant chuckle. "No, not entirely," the old man said. Severus relaxed. That was a relief. 

"I need you to help her," he added.

   Severus scowled. This _wonderful _news wasn't helping his "end-of-summer-blues", as Minerva McGonagall called it, or his headache that was a little souvenir from the previous night's escapade. 

   Thinking back to the previous night, Severus thoughts fell on his vibrant drinking companion, the petit witch he had tried to kiss. Something Severus told himself, cringing, he had done purely out of drunken stupidity. 

   'Or maybe just testosterone,' the little voice sang nastily in his head. _Oh, go away! _Severus thought miserably. Just what he needed—the Granger girl _and _schizophrenic tendencies! 

   Suddenly, Snape realized Dumbledore was still in the room, and watching him intently. Nervously, Severus cleared his throat. "So," he said quickly, diverting Dumbledore's attention, "when is she arriving?"

   Dumbledore frowned. "You will refer to our guest as 'Miss Granger', Severus, not 'she'," the old man chastised gently. Severus sighed but complied.

   "Alright, fine. When is _Miss Granger _arriving?"

Dumbledore beamed. "Miss Granger was scheduled to arrive at 12 o'clock, but seeing as it is 12:15, I would say she found the Mssrs. Weasley in the village. Come, Severus, let us go and meet her." With that said, Dumbledore exited the classroom, Severus grudgingly following at his heels.

*~*~*~*~*

Hermione stood in front of the looming castle. Five years. Five whole years since she'd been back. Five years since the war. 

   She paused and gave herself a once-over. She dusted off her shoes and stood tall, taking a deep breath while reaching for the door handle.  _Okay, Hermione, breathe! _She told herself nervously. She touched the door, and it magically swung open for her.

   Truth be told, Hermione didn't know why she was nervous. It wasn't as though she'd never met any of the staff before. But maybe that was what made it all the worse—everyone already knew her.

   She stepped into the cool front hall, her trunk still floating in midair behind her. She breathed in deeply again, but this time from a sense of familiarity. _Well, I'm home, _Hermione thought.

   "Miss Granger!" She jumped and spun around. There stood Minerva McGonagall, still looking as stern as ever, standing in the entrance to the Great Hall. Hermione broke into a grin.

   "Professor McGonagall! How nice to see you again!" Hermione said, setting the trunk down and shaking her former professor's hand warmly. McGonagall smiled and gave Hermione an uncharacteristic hug. "Welcome back, Miss Granger. Please, come with me, you're just in time for lunch."

   Hermione followed, nearly as amazed with the place as she had been 12 years ago, when she had entered as a know-it-all first year. As they entered the Great Hall, Hermione smiled as she saw the ceiling reflected the bright blue sky that was just outside. The House tables were still up against the wall, and only the Head table was set up. 

   Nearly everyone was there, from Professor Vector to Professor Flitwick to Hagrid. Hagrid beamed at Hermione proudly, and she waved back. Professor McGonagall indicated for her to take one of the empty seats, of which there were four, down at one end of the table. 

   "We will just wait for Albus and the others to show up," McGonagall said. No sooner had she done so, however, then did the Great Hall's doors open again. Albus Dumbledore walked in, still full of youthful energy, followed by Severus Snape and two other men. Hermione could have sworn she saw Dumbledore prod Snape in the arm for him to take the seat next to her. She was joined on the other side by--

"Sirius?!" Hermione cried. Harry's tall, dark-haired godfather grinned and wrapped Hermione into a great embrace. She gladly hugged her friend back. "Sirius, what are you doing here? I thought you went off to live in France!" 

   Sirius Black smiled again. "Nope. Dumbledore wanted me back. I work here now—I'm Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Have been for two years now," he said, taking his seat next to his godson's best friend. Hermione looked across the way—

   And saw Draco Malfoy seated across from her.

"Draco?" Hermione asked, wide-eyed. The platinum-haired, handsome man nodded and grinned. "Don't tell me you work here too!"

   Draco Malfoy had become a spy for the Light during the War with Voldemort, after he saw his father brutally murder a helpless _Pureblood _witch, just because she opposed Voldemort. He had received a Dark Mark and along with Snape had provided useful information that had saved countless lives. He and Hermione had worked closely together during their seventh year—and Hermione had found out that Draco wasn't such a bad guy after all. They became fast friends, discovering that despite their different backgrounds, they had much in common.  

   By the time the final battle rolled around, Draco had begun to not only spy but fight for the Light. He had helped Hermione get Harry to the meeting point with Voldemort, and had actually jumped in front of an oncoming curse for her. Hermione had helped him capture his father, who was turned over to the Dementors in Azkaban. Lucius Malfoy had received the Kiss after being on trial. Hermione had helped Draco through that tough period of his life—and Draco had been eternally grateful for his first true friend. 

   "No, Hermione," Draco said, answering her question. "Remember how I told you I'd always wanted to be an Auror?"

   "Yes," she said, remembering. "You told me that the day we graduated!" 

Draco nodded. "Well, I became one."

   "And promptly got promoted," Dumbledore said. Hermione stared at her blonde friend in shock, which caused Draco to turn slightly pink. 

   "Draco, that's wonderful!" she cried, warmly shaking his hand from across the table. "What are you now?"

   Draco put on the trademark smirk. "I'm Head of Security Department. That's why I'm here—I have to check the school before it starts, you know, make sure it's well protected and safe. Wouldn't want any of the students having adventures like we did." 

   Hermione laughed. "No, I suppose you'd better spare them the trouble, Draco," she said.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Severus watched his former student as she talked with Draco Malfoy. _She really does look different, _he thought to himself as he picked around his plate, _and yet oddly familiar. _

   He was vaguely aware of Albus engaging the girl in a conversation about the University, but Severus continued watching Hermione. He remembered her in seventh year, when she was exhausted by trying to protect Harry and fight in the many battles that occurred near Hogwarts. Nearly every day Severus had seen her with faint shadows under her big brown eyes.

   _Big, brown eyes? _

Now where in all the seven Hells had that come from? _Since when have you ever thought about Hermione Granger's brown eyes, no matter how beautiful they are? _The little voice asked him, buzzing about his ears. Severus himself was stunned. The little demur had a point—she was a former student, for Merlin's sake!

   Severus sneaked another glance at the girl-woman to his left. Hermione was chatting happily about the Potter couple to Draco. Her curly toffee-colored hair was tied in a loose bun at the base of her neck. From their close seating arrangement, he caught a whiff of vanilla which he supposed came from her hair. She had really blossomed after the War—she looked much better, more alive. _Oh come on, Snape, just admit it—you think that this former student, whom is now your apprentice, is quite a looker! _

   Snape decided he had better not let his head do any more talking, before it got him into trouble. He tuned back into the conversation. Hermione and Draco were having a quiet conversation off to the side.

   "Ron broke up with me yesterday," Hermione was saying in a low voice to Draco. "He'd been seeing Parvati Patil from the office. How low can you get?" she hissed.

   Draco took his friend's hand in a brotherly way. "What else happened?"

   Hermione averted her eyes. "What do you mean, Draco?" she asked. Draco laughed.

   "I talked to Harry this morning. He said Ginny had told him you went out and got _sloshed _last night. Now _there's _a side of you I've never seen before, Mione," Draco said, chuckling. Hermione turned bright pink and muttered something in assent under her breath, turning away from her old schoolmate in embarrassment. Her eyes met Severus's and she tried to hide a small grin. 

   And then it hit him like a ton of bricks. The vanilla-scented hair. The beautiful brown eyes. The enchanting laugh. 

_She was the pretty witch from the Leaky Cauldron. _

_She was his drinking companion from last night._

_She was the girl he had tried to kiss._

*~*~*~*~*~*

**The Authoress's Note: **Welcome back.

Arg! I'm SO SORRY this chapter took so long to get up. This week was hectic—I had three finals and I was on the graduation committee and we had a dance Friday night. It was crazy! 

I also want to thank all the reviewers for chapter two—YOU GUYS ROCK!

Javalass—thanks for clearing me up there. I'm glad you like the story!

RattleSnake—They _do _need to get drunk more often, don't they? Hehe…thank you _mucho grande_ for your reviews.

GirlEnigma—It is such an HONOR to get a compliment from you! Thanks for reading my humble scribbling. Yes, this is going to be Hermione/Severus…I have a Draco/Hermione (well, more like two. Or three. Or six) story in the works, one of which I am writing the first chapter today. That should be posted by…Wednesday? Yeah. (Thanks for the cookie!) 

REVIEW! REVIEW! Hey, what can I say; I'm a review whore. J

*Mme Plot Bunnie 


	4. Getting To Know You

WITH A DASH OF LEMON JUICE 

By Madame Plot Bunnie

  
**Welcome to the Tower of Babble: **Just a few quick notes. 

**~IF YOU HAVE NOT READ ORDER OF THE PHOENIX, PLEASE SKIP THIS NOTE!!!~**

ARE YOU STILL READING THIS??? OKAY. 

Upon reading of the death of Mr. Sirius Black, I became quite emotional. I do not want to part with him. Therefore, I have decided to keep Mr. Black in this story. I may or may not think of a plausible excuse for his "death", but more likely will I just form another plausible situation. 

Please bear that in mind. (Did anybody else cry when they read that?)

Okay, on with the show!

*~*~*~*~*~*

   Lunch, Hermione found, could be quite a long affair. 

All of her former professors were keen to hear details of University life, asking whether she knew such-and-such a professor or had used a certain text. Minerva McGonagall actually spent twenty minutes reminiscing on an exam she had taken for Transfiguration.

That was not to say that it was disagreeable for Hermione, on the contrary, she loved answering their questions. But other thoughts that had been lost had suddenly jumped back to the front of her mind. 

She had been seated next to Severus Snape, her former Potions Master. He looked as formidable as always, but she noted that he had also looked slightly uneasy around her. His dark curtain of hair drew a shade around his eyes, so she could not have read his thoughts, even if she had dared. 

This was, of course, before he had stormed out of his seat nearly ten minutes ago.

"Hermione?" A crisp, Scottish accent sliced through Hermione's Snape-musings. Hermione blinked, to find that the whole table was staring at her. She felt her cheeks burn.

"Sorry," she said quietly. Minerva had the oddest expression on her face, as though she were somewhere between a scolding and a grin. Instead, she began to speak.

"I have arranged for you to meet with the three professors you will be working most closely with this year," Professor McGonagall said, fixing her glasses while looking at Hermione. "Which are, of course, Cassia Vector, Severus Snape, and myself." 

Some of the staff members exchanged looks. Hermione knew what they were thinking: how was she managing it all? 

Not breathing adds a whole lot of time to the day, Hermione thought sardonically as she smiled up the table. Minerva surveyed her with a look of pure pride and continued.

"You will meet with Cassia at two o'clock, myself at five, and Severus," Minerva said, pursing her lips, "at eight. If you will come with me, Hermione?" 

Minerva stood and exited the Hall. Hermione made to follow her, and Draco also got out of his seat. He hurried to catch up with her. 

"Three Apprenticeships, Hermione?" He whispered, smirking, in her ear as they exited the Hall together.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Professor McGonagall showed Hermione the way to her new quarters, which were located somewhere on the fourth floor. A painting of a sleeping, grouchy looking old wizard and his wife guarded the entrance.

Professor McGonagall led Hermione right up to the portrait. 

"Lorimer!" McGonagall said, rapping on the frame of the portrait. "Miriam!" 

Miriam, upon hearing her name, opened her eyes and saw Minerva and stood. "Good afternoon to you, Lady McGonagall!" Miriam said, in a clear Scottish accent to match McGonagall's. She curtsied to McGonagall, and her eyes fell upon Hermione.

"Lord be praised, we have a newcomer! Lorimer!" Miriam turned and whacked her husband on his head. Lorimer gave a start and awoke, looking even surlier than he did when sleeping. 

"What is it ye want, crazy witch-woman?" he cried, frowning grumpily.  

Hermione stifled a giggle. The portrait couple had obviously been married for quite some time. Miriam faced Hermione once again.

"Ye'll have to forgive Lorimer, dear. He becomes quite nasty if he doesn't sleep fifteen hours of the day," she said. "Are you to be the chamber's new lady?"

Hermione nodded. "I am. I'm to be a teacher here."

Miriam clapped her hands together in joy, causing the ill-tempered Lorimer to wince. 

"Oh, but it was true then, Minerva! This is the Hermione we have heard the portraits whisper of! My dear," she said, while Hermione turned a delicate shade of red, "forgive me. We have not had an occupant for many years now." She turned to McGonagall. "She is every bit as pretty as Octavio on the first floor said she was."

By now, Hermione felt as though she would have liked to sink into the floor. The portraits are gossiping about me, she thought, mortified. Professor McGonagall seemed to notice her embarrassment, thankfully, and cleared her throat. 

"The Apprentice Hermione wishes to enter her quarters," McGonagall said, cutting through Miriam's delighted ramblings. Lorimer looked highly grateful. 

"Of course, of course," Miriam said. "Know ye the password?"

Hermione shook her head, but Professor McGonagall said "Lemon Drop." Miriam and Lorimer swung forward on their hinges, and Hermione and Professor McGonagall stepped inside.

Hermione's immediate reaction to her chambers was "WOW." 

The room had three walls; the fourth was a wall-to-wall glass window that looked south to the lake. The walls were blue, (her favourite color) a cool, satin-y blue that reminded Hermione of a Mediterranean sky, seen so many times on holiday. 

A large, comfortable-looking armchair sat tucked in a corner near the unlit fireplace, and waist-high bookcases adorned the walls. A table and several chairs were in another. A wooden doorframe led to what Hermione supposed was her bedroom. 

"Oh my…Professor McGonagall…is this really mine?" Hermione breathed, awed by the beauty of her rooms, her mouth open and eyes wide.

McGonagall smiled. "Albus thought if we did the rooms exactly to your liking, you would not become so homesick," the older woman said kindly. "I am glad to see that he was right." She swept toward the entrance before pausing. "Your things are in your room. We're glad you're back with us, Miss Granger."

And with that, McGonagall left the Hermione, who was still gawking at her wonderful surroundings. She strode over to the window, where she could see the sun's light dancing off of the lake. The fain outline of the giant squid could barely be seen from its depths. 

"I can't believe this place…" Hermione whispered to herself. Never in a thousand years could she have dreamed of such a palace of a room. 

Quickly, she entered her bedroom, which gave her another gasp of delight: the walls were a cool green that compared the sky and ocean; there was a large four-poster bed, and a large window that gazed out to the lake. Remind me to thank Dumbledore sometime, she thought to herself, awed and appreciative. 

It was then that she noticed the time—it was already 1:30. Her meeting with Vector was at two, and she still needed to freshen up. Hermione sighed, eying the bookshelves, but went into the bathroom.

The bathroom rivaled that of the Prefect's, with a large bathtub and marble sinks. The entire room was white. Hermione quickly brushed her hair and splashed water on her face, before leaving to go to the sixth floor.

*~*~*~*~*~*

   Slightly winded, Hermione reached Cassia Vector's office at exactly 1:59 (she had always been one to be punctual.) After regaining her breath, she knocked on the door.

"Come in," Cassia Vector's voice rang. Hermione pushed open the door and entered.

Cassia Vector sat behind her desk. An intelligent woman of roughly fifty, Cassia's long brown hair was tinged with the lightest shades of gray. When standing, she reached an imposing height of nearly six feet, which had given her great advantages while teaching. 

Vector had been one of Hermione's favourite teachers, because she could make even the difficult subject of Arithmancy easy to understand. Needless to say, she had excelled in the class.

"Good afternoon, Professor Vector," Hermione said with a wide smile. Vector pulled out a chair for her, all the while saying, "Please, my dear, call me Cassia. We are colleagues now." Hermione sat while Cassia waved her wand, and a tea tray appeared on the desk. 

And so began Hermione's first interview of the day.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

An hour and a half later, Hermione emerged from Cassia's office, biding her a good afternoon. 

Only two more to go, she thought, weary from answering still more questions and going over lesson plans. I don't even know how I'm going to be able to do three Apprenticeships this year. She rounded a corner, past a small congregation of ghosts, to whom she nodded. 

Hermione allowed her mind to wander as she walked the path back down to her fourth-floor rooms. She thought of her day so far, Vector, and the twins, before her mind flicked unwillingly to Ron.

  In her mind's eye, she could see Ron at her twenty-first birthday party at the Burrow, him greeting her after his return to England, and Ron surprising her with roses at her flat. Hermione sighed, and then she could see the fight that had eventually driven her to the Leaky Cauldron last night.

   Hermione stopped, and realizing she had missed the portrait, retraced her steps. Fuming with the combined anger of Ron and missing her exit, she muttered the password as politely as she could muster to the squabbling couple.

Once inside, Hermione threw herself on the bed, still musing about Ron. And why on Earth did I go get drunk? She wondered, laying her head down on a fluffy pillow. Even after witnessing the killer hangover she had had this morning, she couldn't believe she had done it. And what was worse, everyone knew! Ginny knew, and she had told Harry, who in turn told Draco. The word probably would get to Ron too…

   This thought made her smolder with rage. If only she hadn't cared so much. But Hermione simply wasn't one of those girls who, after being ridded of one boyfriend, went and got another. She didn't flit from man to man. 

   Her thoughts flickered to her mysterious but humorous drinking companion of the previous night. 

Hermione gave a small intake of breath and sat up. "How could I have forgotten him?" she muttered to herself, rubbing her forehead. She couldn't remember all the details of the man, for she had been credibly drunk when she first noticed him, but did remember that he had been rather tall, with dark hair and dark eyes, a deep, rumbling voice and laugh.

   Hermione fell back on the bed, grinning somewhat stupidly. And he tried to kiss me! She thought, giddy as a schoolgirl with a crush. She allowed herself a small giggle, before realizing that she had pushed the stranger away. 

Even when I am drunk, I'm practical, Hermione thought with a small sigh. Deciding to stop brooding while she was ahead of the game, she propelled herself off the bed and walked into her antechamber, gazing at the bookshelves. Still, no matter how hard she tried, she could not expel the image of her handsome stranger from her mind.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

   Hermione decided it would be well to skip dinner that evening, as she had had tea with McGonagall at five. McGonagall, who was abnormally fond of biscuits, had forced so many on Hermione, she felt as though she had quite lost her appetite.

   So instead of joining the other staff members for dinner, Hermione returned to her rooms to tidy up for her visit to Snape. 

For half an hour she sat on her bed, deep in thought as to whether she should change her clothes or not. She did not want to appear as though she was striving to impress the man, for she knew that no matter what she did, he would still be Snape, although she did not want to appear as though she didn't care for her appearance, either.

   In the end, Hermione decided she might as well change, and so dug out a blue skirt from her trunk. She brushed out her hair (thankfully tamed…) so it was devoid of frizz, and then twisted it back up into a low bun. 

She gazed into the bathroom mirror, inspecting herself. Not too dressy, doesn't look like I'm overdoing it…I sure wish I had Ginny's advice, I don't know why Snape makes me so nervous after all these years…

   Sighing, she checked the time—seven o'clock. One hour till show time, Hermione thought, moving out of the bathroom into her bedroom. Hermione sat on the bed, daydreaming about her stranger from the night before. She couldn't get the man out of her head!

"The same to you, beautiful," he had said, after she had toasted him. Hermione could remember the sound of his deep voice, and smiled in delight. The voice would reside in her dreams for years to come, a bright spot in dark places. 

   If only I had not turned him away! Hermione thought despairingly. There had been only the lightest contact, a tingle of his lips on hers before she had shoved him off…

"Ah, WHY?!" she cried, tossing the pillow across the room, frustrated with herself. Hermione regained her composure and glanced at the clock again. Quarter till eight. 

Time to go, she thought, giving herself one last all-over before quickly exiting the room.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Severus Snape paced his dungeon office, clearly angry. 

The reason for his anger was one he planned to keep a deadly secret: Hermione Granger.

   I can't believe I tried to kiss that insolent little brat! He thought, enraged with himself. I must have been completely trashed. 

Yes, that would explain it, and make a fine excuse. If only Severus could believe it. Deep down, however, he knew he had been acting purely on male instinct. This, combined with the way he had surveyed Miss Granger during lunch this afternoon completed his feeling of overall despair. 

So he had become hopelessly drunk. So they had shared a few drinks. So he had tried to kiss her. So what?

   Of course, there was the small fact that she was now his Apprentice, for Merlin's sake, and she was coming to meet him in exactly twelve minutes. 

   Severus groaned and stopped pacing, thoroughly disgusted with himself. He was not going to act like one of his hormonal fifth-year students! He would remain in control; he would have the upper hand. 

Perhaps she will not recognize me, Severus thought optimistically, running a hand through his black hair thoughtfully. But maybe I'll test the waters…play a little game, to see how much I can embarrass her, he thought gleefully.

For that was his philosophy to smooth over his own faults and wrongdoings: act like a complete bastard incarnate towards someone else. 

It was the only life lesson his father had ever taught him that was actually worth knowing. 

   Still, he mused, he might as well make sure he looked presentable. Not that he was trying to impress Granger, or anything of that nature. No, he thought, as he stood in front of his mirror. Just making sure I don't look too…frightening. Deciding that the black robes looked as well as they ever would, his hair did not obstruct his vision, Severus walked over to his cabinets and pulled out a tray of bottles. Smirking, he readied two seats by the fire. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

   Hermione rushed down the steps to Snape's dungeon. She knew his office was somewhere along the cold passageway. 

   About halfway down, she passed a door that was slightly ajar, and took this as Snape's sign. She raised a fist to the door, taking in a deep breath. Don't show fear or anger or intimidation. Everything will be fine. 

"Everything will be fine," she repeated to herself quietly, knocking on the door bracingly. 

   "Come in," was the curt reply. Hermione took a deep breath, smoothed her hair, and pushed open the door.

   Her eyes took in the tall form of Severus Snape, who was standing behind his desk expectantly, his long fingers linked together. His eyes, which were the darkest black of a stormy night, stared across the room at her. Hermione steeled her insides and did not loom away.

   "Good evening, Miss Granger," Snape said, in a fairly pleasant tone. Or rather, one that's usual vindictiveness was somehow diluted. Hermione mentally shook herself. You're imagining things, she said sternly.

"Good evening, Professor Snape," Hermione said, allowing a small smile. Snape continued to stare at her, almost as though he were trying to read her thoughts. 

Hermione took the brief opportunity to survey the Potions Master. He really can't be all that old, she thought. I'd say 40 at the absolute extreme. And to tell the truth, Professor Snape wasn't all that bad looking, with his stately height (he towered over Hermione's five foot five) and dark hair. Hermione noted his looks were dark and slightly enigmatic, almost brooding, complete with mysterious onyx eyes.

   "Please, Miss Granger, take a seat," Snape's voice cut silkily through Hermione's thoughts about his mysterious, onyx eyes. She gave a little start and felt her cheeks burn, but took a seat next to the fire. Snape was smirking.

He pointedly took the seat next to hers and continued to stare her down. Hermione tried her absolute hardest to maintain an outward appearance of cool. But that's really hard to do when the person staring you down is Severus bloody Snape, she thought. She cast around her mind for something to help her keep her cool, and it fell on the mysterious, kissing drinking companion. Her muscles relaxed. 

   Snape must have picked up on this, because he began to speak, still smirking faintly. "May I offer you something, Miss Granger?" he asked politely. 

Whoa…"Snape" and "polite" in the same sentence…weird, Hermione thought. Snape continued.

"Tea? Gillywater?" What in the Hell? She thought, caught between concentrating on that deep-voiced, good-looking dark haired stranger, and the antics of her Potions Master. Confusion splayed across her face, and Snape's smirk widened.

"Perhaps a cocktail, Miss Granger? I do believe you are…of age now," Snape continued, his low voice going softer. "Perhaps a vodka—with a dash of lemon juice? I've become quite partial to them myself."

   Hermione gasped and sank bat in her chair, her hands over her opened mouth. Snape smirked.

It had all suddenly clicked in her mind—Severus Snape was her dark and mysterious drinking companion from last night! Oh God, she thought, feeling the blood rush to her head, I'm going to die. 

   Quickly, Hermione pulled herself together. She could play Snape's game too—all Hermione had to do was stay cool and collected until she could get out of there, and then talk to Ginny. Smiling composedly, she blinked up at Snape.

"Oh, no thank you, Sir," Hermione said sweetly, crossing her ankles. Snape's smirk faded a watt or two as he slowly set the decanter of vodka down on the table. "You see, I'm very picky with my cocktails—I'm not really all that fond of vodka." She turned on a mega-watt smile for him.

Snape sat back down in his chair, a tight, angry look about his face. Hermione could tell that last night's events were still clear in his mind as well. He wants to get me back for getting him piss drunk, I suppose, Hermione thought, stifling a giggle at the thought of him drunkenly grabbing her for a kiss. Severus Snape, snogging his Apprentice in a London bar, my goodness. 

   "Well," Snape said, "to business then." He pulled out a folder and flipped through its contents. "You are currently studying under Euclid Mishbee at the University, are you not?"

Hermione nodded. "I am."

Snape continued, still looking sour at her refusal of the drink. "And it says that your Apprenticeship is for two semesters, and you are studying under Minerva, Cassia, and myself," he paused, clearly impressed at her academic achievements. Hermione felt a little glow of pride. 

"Not overachieving anything, are we, Miss Granger?" Snape asked softly.

Her glow of pride was quickly doused.

  "You will be studying under me, and that, Miss Granger, means we will be playing by my rules," Snape said, leaning forward, his dark hair falling in his eyes. "If I need someone to cover a class, you will do it. If I need materials, you will pick them up. If I need a potion, you will assist me in making it. I take no fooling around."

Hermione was inwardly seething. Being treated like a common servant? She thought indignantly. She was here to learn, not be treated like some little errand boy! But she merely nodded, murmuring, "Yes." 

   Snape glared and leaned in even closer, his voice even softer. Hermione tried her hardest not to stare into his "enigmatic" eyes. "I am still your teacher here, Miss Granger," he whispered. "You will refer to me as 'Sir' or 'Professor.' IS that understood?"

   Hermione inhaled sharply. "Yes, Sir," she muttered through clenched teeth, her hands balled into fists under the table. How on Earth could one man be so different—one night, he tried to kiss her, the next he was lecturing her! That stupid bast—

   "And, Miss Granger," Snape said, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper, "do not give me any…lip. I will have no trouble sending you away," he hissed. Hermione glared.

   He was really asking for it. Send me away…just like you did last night, eh? 

"Just like what, Miss Granger?" Snape's voice asked. Hermione mentally kicked herself—she hadn't realized she'd said that last part aloud. 

"Nothing," she said, before quickly adding, "Sir." 

Snape glared at her for a moment, and she glared back. He blinked first, straightened, and said, turning away, "That is all, Miss Granger. You are dismissed." He gave her an impatient wave of his hand.

   Hermione stood up so fast her chair nearly fell over. "Thank you, Professor," she hissed, turning on her heel and stalking out of the room.

    But before she slammed the door, she thought she heard Snape's soft voice murmur, "And do stay out of the bars, Miss Granger." 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N: Oy. 

I have not updated this in like a month and a half, whoa! Life is crazy, man. My brain took a three-week long vacation and just settled back in, yay. 

Uh, yeah, I'm REALLY tired, so you're spared of review-pleads (it's so not worth it) and message crap tonight. Sorry! I LOVE YEW ALL!

Review Whores Unite! (HINT HINT)

*Madame


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